U:Move

By Dan Leist
    Electronic shows of this size only happened in Kansas City and when they did junglists, weirdos, night-livers, transcendentalists, and freaks from all around the Midwest would splurge and be recognized here like their lives depended on it. This particular gathering would feature a plethora of electronic talent. From the legendary streets of Chicago came Bad Boy Bill, Top 100 DJ of the world, the dub-steppers brought in their upcoming prodigy Vibesquad, and the esoteric hero to junglists and Drum ‘n Bass heads, AK1200. With so much variety this rave was not so much a simple fairy wings and glowsticks party, this was real shit meant to stir up a ruckus. Parties of this size are never simplified to one room of a thousand people dancing and freaking out on each other. There is a certain element to finesse in the party-throwers mind. Three rooms would hinge on the pleasures of fans and excite those who hadn’t a clue as to what they were up against. The main room offered three projections screens, hip hop dancers, remodeled Renaissance style décor from the 1920’s, and as many queens shaking their hula hoops as myself caught in a Queer Riot. It was rapture. The best feeling about being caught in such an odd situation is the liberation of dancing. Everyone around you is caught in this freedom of self-expression and there is nothing to do but join in the euphoria. All this is the ideal party-goers fantasy but not all endeavors turn out in favorable candy bliss.
      For a substantial part of the show, the headliner Bad Boy Bill had been caught in flight delays due to snow storms, air flight fuck-ups, and situational conundrums. Wastoids from across the Heartland had ventured out to see such a diversity of normal people gone extreme, this world-renowned DJ, and the typical real world person caught in a circus of hallucination. Whether panda-bear bunny or the delusional war vet, they’re all reaching out to you. The one who grabbed me by the arm happened to be the veteran wandering in the lobby, feeling up the wooden banister. I do believe he found his way to many doors that night but never to the dance floor. Better for him in the lobby than next to some youngin caught in a bad trip of Rambo. As the night progressed it seemed as if Bad Boy Bill would never make it to the stage. Word had arrived from the airport finally that his plane had left Chicago and he was expected to walk on stage the minute his set was to begin. Rock stars are of course entitled to such privilege at their own parties.
      Sadly the setting for such a welcome party was short lived, not that Bill would be deterred from such calamity, but it seemed just as he arrived from not only being delayed four times from de-icing, flight delays, maintenance, and a reroute on a different flight, he literally was driven to his hotel, changed clothes, got in the car and walked on stage ten minutes late. The moment he walked on stage AK1200’s sound system blew out in the third room. Smoke lingered through the venue and surprisingly enough a fan grabbed a fire extinguisher. Although the crisis happened on the third floor, the foresaid disillusioned hippie ran to the second room full of dubstep hippies and let off a cloud of CO2. Such was the fiasco to ensue. Security evacuated the room while the hero fireman walked aimlessly across the street after being ostracized by fellow fans. The state of the party had amounted to clusterfuck status, but as ravers know it takes a lot more to halt a party in its climax. Soon the room situations were rectified and dancing continued. Dubsteppers were dancing on sticky carpet to Vibesquad, AK1200’s system was restored to full drum’n bass status, and Bad Boy Bill was DJing another legendary set. Kansas City had definitely reached Critical Mass to kick off 2009.